


Carry On, Calm Or Not

by yourrockyspine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourrockyspine/pseuds/yourrockyspine
Summary: After an inadvertent attempt on his life, 17-year-old Merlin finds himself stuck in the Camelot Ward for Troubled Adolescents.Forced to work through his feelings of helplessness, Merlin develops a new lease on life and learns to find happiness in the strangest of corners.(Trigger Warnings in End Notes)





	Carry On, Calm Or Not

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of my love letter to the many greats in the mental health profession; without some of the options at hand, I wouldn't have been here. You lot give angry teenagers hope.
> 
> Other than the subject of suicide, this isn't a Trigger Warning kind of story. No graphic instructions on how to kill yourself (I deliberately refused to name Merlin's pills of choice), or any kind of detailed look into any of the other characters's tales of woe. This is first and foremost a story about healing, making sense of your inner turmoil, and finding happiness in small corners.
> 
> Many of the examples in this story come from personal experience. I've spent time in several mental health facilities. This story is a combination of my favourite experiences, because I had no desire to turn a very serious subject into tragedy porn. That's rarely what clinic life is about.
> 
> If any of you are personally struggling and on the verge of collapse: look into your local mental health facilities. Routine and social interaction can work wonders for the depressed and suicidal. [I can't speak for those of you outside the EU, for which I apologise.]

If someone had forced Merlin to come up with a single word to describe the Camelot Ward for Troubled Adolescents upon first glance, it would've come to him easily: uncomfortable.

On the surface it was just another hospital wing, which he'd become far too familiar with these last few days: altogether too white, too clinical and impersonal, too infused with LED lights. The stench of antiseptic was unavoidable, even with this particular section's lack of serious injuries (which its Director had proudly boasted of, Merlin guessed in an attempt to steer him away from thoughts of suicide).

Merlin knew why he was here. He knew why everyone else was here. He may not have been overly fond of his new blindingly white prison ward, but he wasn't too proud to admit he was there of his own doing.

Merlin had tried to kill himself. That's how the doctors had put it, at least; Merlin himself was slightly less certain of the specifics, but he figured a month in this place would help him sort through those thoughts.

Stuck in limbo between shock and confusion, Merlin had a difficult time recalling what had landed him here. One minute he was slurping from his mum's neglected bottle of sherry, popping the occasional pill just to see how long it would take for his anxiety to go down, and the next he was flat on his back in an unfamiliar room, a large tube stuck down his throat. Then there was vomit... so much, _so much_ vomit.

He'd passed out for several days, courtesy of sheer dehydration, then woke up only to find himself strapped to yet another gurney inside another ambulance, taking him to what he'd initially assumed was Hell, but which turned out to be yet another place that reeked of medicine and misery. And again, the bloody LED...

So now here he was, stuck inside a waiting room, disoriented and rattled. He'd officially reached the Lunatic Ward (Merlin was a sensitive boy and wouldn't have coined that term himself, but a very gleeful male nurse at the other hospital had no such compunctions, and now it was all Merlin could think of).

Not too far away, a door opened and shut and Merlin looked up to find the source of footsteps coming his way. He saw a beautiful, tired-looking young woman smiling down at him.

"Mr. Emrys? I've been instructed to bring you to Dr. Gaius's office."

Merlin got to his feet unsteadily, and the pretty woman helpfully supported him. Probably wasn't the first time one of her clients needed a bit of help staying upright.

"My name's Mithian Nemeth and I'm Dr. Gaius's personal assistant. His policy is pretty open-door most of the time, but just in case you ever need to reach him and he isn't immediately available, you may call on me."

Merlin was still a bit too confused and woozy to make conversation, but Mithian simply squeezed his arm and gave him a warm, understanding smile. He wondered if she had a secret stash of chocolate biscuits hidden away somewhere that she shared with waiting patients. Something about that friendly face made him think she was the type.

She led him to an office that did, in fact, have an open door, rapped on the side of the wall and gently shoved Merlin inside. "Your 11 o'clock, sir," she said before seating herself behind the desk across from the office and giving Merlin one last friendly wink.

At the sound of a chair being pushed back, Merlin looked over at the office desk and the man occupying it. He was rather old, and with his shoulder-length white hair and glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose, Merlin was getting some definite crazy scientist vibes.

The man's welcoming smile, steady handshake and authoritative voice carried no such vibes, however.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Emrys, though perhaps not under the circumstances. Go on and have a seat."

He guided Merlin to a chair and Merlin reminded himself to send a few Thank You notes to these people once his stint here was done. Without their gentle hands cradling his elbow, he would've stumbled and gotten himself concussed more than once.

Taking his seat across from Merlin, Dr. Gaius peered into his eyes. It was an inquisitive, but unthreatening gaze.

"Now, Merlin, I can tell you're still feeling somewhat fuzzy, so I won't be keeping you long. I'd just like to make sure you know why you're here, and if there's anything we can do specifically to make your stay more productive."

Under different circumstances, Merlin's automatic reply to this kind elderly man would've had him crumbling in shame, but the mixture of sedatives and the impending gravity of his situation had turned him snarky.

"Shouldn't you know this? Being a professional?"

If Dr. Gaius was rattled in any way, he didn't show it. He simply looked down and smiled, gave a tiny shake of the head, and looked back into Merlin's eyes. "Don't think for one second I don't know how difficult this must be for you. We've plenty of ways to help here, and over the next 30 days many of these will be employed, but if there's anything you would like to know right now, well... that's why I've summoned you here."

Merlin stared down at where his hands were clasped together tightly in his lap, face burning. He couldn't believe he'd only been here a few minutes and already he was being rude to a perfectly nice person who was only doing his job. If his mum hadn't been ashamed of his actions before, this would've floored her.

Dr. Gaius was clearly a very seasoned psychiatrist, because he picked up on Merlin's regret immediately and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Listen here now, lad, I'm not about to throw you out of my office for mouthing off. You're fine. We are fine. I've had some patients throw chairs at me. You don't get to be as ancient as I am without learning to dodge the occasional piece of furniture and office supply."

Merlin snorted involuntarily, eyes still cast down in embarrassment, and Dr. Gaius hummed his delight.

"There you go. You just be as outspoken or tight-lipped as you want, rude or polite. All that matters is that it does you some good. That's why you're here, and it's why I'm here. To avoid any of that self-sabotage and get you back up on your feet."

Biting his lip and nodding fervently, promising not to let this kind man's forgiveness go to waste, Merlin forced himself to make eye contact.

"I really don't know what happened."

Dr. Gaius merely smiled, and said, "You're hardly the first. It'll come to you when the time is right. Do you remember anything about the past three days?"

That... was a conker of a question. Other than the odd flashback containing bright, migraine-inducing hospital lights, and vomiting like his life depended on it (which he supposed it had), Merlin struggled to recall anything else.

"When a young person decides to take their life, they're usually put under a period of observation. You were given 72 hours in a nearby psychiatric hospital, but you slept through most of it. With your mum's permission, we took over that hospital's duties. Right now you are a resident of these facilities, and you've been given 30 days to recover."

***

Merlin had been given a small room with a single bed, a desk and chair, a sink and mirror, and a narrow wardrobe. After his meeting with Dr. Gaius, he'd immediately collapsed onto the bed.

After dozing for an hour or two, he was alerted to a gentle rapping at his door. He forced himself to get up, rubbed his eyes, and opened his door to reveal Mithian's lovely face.

"I've been instructed to bring you down to the common room," she imparted this information with the air of someone who'd been given a crucial, life-saving task and gave Merlin an exaggerated conspirational wink.

He threw on a warm hoodie and followed her down to a large, bright room where a circle of chairs had been arranged, and a nearby table boasted an espresso machine and a selection of mouth-watering pastries.

"Is this secretly Alcoholics Anonymous?" he muttered, much more awake now, and felt like he was on solid ground when Mithian chuckled at his side.

"You hush, we could've sent you into therapy without the support of caffeine and sugar, and where'd you be then?" Mithian shot him another playful wink before going back down the hall.

Looking around the room, Merlin noticed that there were two other people occupying the chairs so far, and not wanting to make conversation just yet, he went and poured himself some espresso into a small paper cup.

"Quality, innit?" said a voice. Merlin looked at the person standing next to him. She was short, pale and frail, but her big brown eyes were sparkling with personality. "You wouldn't expect it from a nuthouse coffee machine, but it'll definitely do."

Merlin snorted into his cup and nodded his agreement. "I was afraid it would sound rude, but those were actually my exact thoughts."

The girl gave him a lopsided smile and poured herself a cup. "Longer you're here, the less rude everything you say will start to seem."

"Been here long, then?"

"Just shy of two weeks. But this isn't my first rodeo." It was said so matter-of-factly and lacking in self pity that Merlin was intrigued. Picking up on his curiosity, she added, "Don't you go worrying now that these exercises are futile. Some of us are just a bit harder of learning than others."

With a mirthful wink, she excused herself to snatch a scone and plop into one of the seats, happily snacking.

As Merlin loaded up on caffeine and tried to decide on a pastry (quite honestly, he was up for several, but he didn't think that taking more than one would be looked on favourably by the staff), the room slowly filled until there were only two onoccupied seats. Merlin picked a cinnamon donut and sat himself down.

Looking across the room, it struck him how normal they all seemed. A few people were chatting happily, while others were silently enjoying the provisions. Only one boy was visibly uncomfortable and hunched in on himself, staring morosely at the floor. Everyone else acted like this was simply a student gathering. And yet all these people had tried in some way to end their lives. It boggled the mind, and Merlin figured that's why everyone was always so surprised by suicides.

The noise died down just as another person came into the room. She was young, but clearly not under the age of 20 like the rest of them, and her light yellow blouse made her brown skin look radiant. In fact, 'radiant' was the word Merlin would use to describe the whole woman. Her curly hair framed a warm, smiling face, and Merlin noticed that nearly everyone in the circle was smiling back almost automatically.

"Good afternoon, dearies, hope I haven't kept you too long. Just gonna grab me a cuppa and then I'll be right with you."

Espresso ready, the woman sat down in the last available chair and and looked straight at Merlin, shooting him an encouraging smile.

"First things first, we have new arrival, and I'd like us to formally welcome him into our midst. Merlin, my name is Guinevere but _please_ call me Gwen, and I'll be guiding you through these sessions. What we do here is express what we're feeling or struggling with and help each other find solutions to our problems. If you feel like talking, maybe telling us a bit about yourself, that's great, but please do not feel obliged."

Merlin was never good at arguing with kind smiley people, especially not ones with a tendency to ramble a bit, so he decided he might as well make an effort.

"Nice to meet you, Gwen-not-Guinevere," at this, she positively beamed at him, and he felt encouraged to continue. "Nice to meet the rest of you, too. My name's Merlin. 17 years old. I live in Ealdor, where there's lots of goats, which is cool. I like them. I also like drawing, and nature."

Inwardly groaning, Merlin could not have come up with anything that could've made him sound like more of a simpleton. Apparently those sedatives were still quietly chipping away at his brain.

He felt slightly more bolstered by the fact that a couple of the other kids waved, smiled, and one even shouted, "Sup, Merlin!" in an informal mockery of the standard AA meeting response.

Then there was Gwen, still beaming happily and nodding her approval. Most kids who came in here probably didn't have a lot to say on their first day, and he was glad to have overcome his reluctance.

"That's wonderful, Merlin. We have Creative Arts Therapy every morning, so you can draw to your heart's content."

Merlin hadn't known that (knew, in fact, practically nothing so far), but that was a definite perk.

Gwen moved onto the rest of the group and had them briefly introduce themselves to Merlin. There had been the girl who'd approached him at the coffee table, whose name turned out to be Freya. Then there was the lad who'd so boisterously shouted his greeting at Merlin, who introduced himself as Gwaine. Two goth girls who were obviously very close friends were Nimueh and Morgause, and their slightly more emo-leaning male friend introduced himself as Mordred. Another introduced himself as Will, though it was hard to tell because he'd had a donut stuffed into his mouth at the time. Finally, there was the boy who'd struck Merlin as being especially miserable, who didn't bother to lift his gaze from the floor as he mumbled, "Arthur."

The conversation devolved into a surprisingly frank and casual back-and-forth about what was making individual members of the group feel happy, helpless, sad, or angry. Clearly most of them had been at this for a while, and with Gwen's permission to stay quiet, Merlin observed the session with interest. As well as addressing their personal issues, other members piped in with advice and encouragement. Merlin had never seen anything like it and was sorry that the session only lasted an hour.

After Gwen retreated to her office - having encouraged the group to finish off whatever was left of the coffee and pastries if they so pleased - people started milling about, chatting, eating and drinking.

The only person aside from Merlin who hadn't said a word during the session was Arthur, who'd made himself scarce almost the second Gwen ended the session. The rest of the group interacted pleasantly and lazily, and Merlin felt a bit lost.

A palm landed on his shoulder and he looked into the grinning face of Will, who had apparently liberated two more donuts.

"So, what you in for?"

"Attempted murder," was Merlin's automatic reply (technically not a lie) and Will clapped and cackled with delight.

"Same as the rest of us, then! Welcome, mate, to the place where the inmates run the asylum. You think we're nuts, wait till you meet the rest of the staff."

***

After a pleasant afternoon of getting to know his fellow group members, courtesy of the outgoing Will who did his best to make Merlin feel at ease, it was time for another meeting with Dr. Gaius.

"Merlin, you look very well. I take it Gwen helped you settle in nicely."

"Absolutely," Merlin nodded. "It's weird. I feel like I should be more uncomfortable than I am, but everyone's nice and helpful and it really takes a load off."

Dr. Gaius seemed very pleased. "That's wonderful, dear boy. After the experience you've had, the most important thing is that you feel comfortable, and that's why we strive to maintain a friendly staff."

"Well, even if the rest are brutal dictators compared to Gwen, they're probably still great."

"Ah, yes," Dr. Gaius chuckled. "There's a reason young Guinevere's is the first session we refer our new patients to. Don't know what it is about her, but she has a way with people that will benefit the mental health profession for years to come. If I'd any way of cloning her, I would have, but hopefully the rest of the staff will also be to your liking. Have you gotten acquainted with any of your fellow patients?"

"It felt a bit awkward at first, but that was mostly me. They're a welcoming bunch. Which, I was wondering about that..." Merlin wasn't quite sure how to finish that sentence, but Dr. Gaius effortlessly picked up on his meaning.

"You're wondering why these people who are all here for tragic reasons could make for such pleasant company."

Merlin nodded.

"Suicide," Dr. Gaius began and Merlin winced at how easily he'd given name to the act, "is a complicated matter. It's a desperate act borne of many different circumstances. Some would call it temporary madness, but I don't like either of those words very much. Madness is a matter of opinion, and suicidal feelings aren't always temporary. Nevertheless, I think you catch my drift - there's a certain mindset one has to be in, and it's a mindset one can just as suddenly snap out of. These young people here, they've snapped out of it, for the time being - and I pray it's forever. Human beings are social creatures, and as such will always find ways to adapt to their surroundings. Sounds like you're adapting very well indeed."

***

The next morning, Merlin - now in the possession of a brand new schedule - was off to his first session of Creative Arts Therapy. He was immediately intercepted in the hall by Will, who was entirely too awake and cheerful so early in the morning.

"Arts is the best, mate. You're a creative type, right? You'll bloody love it. I do, and I can't draw worth a shite. Don't know my way around a tin of paint either unless it's for huffing. And I'm pretty sure I lost part of a finger to one of the saws. They're just letting me sit in the back with a pair of kiddie scissors and a stack of magazines at this point. Gives me time to perfect the art of blackmail letters, though."

Encouraged by Will's enthusiastic ramblings, Merlin was steered into a room that was nowhere near as clinical-looking as the rest of the building. The walls were covered in artwork from what Merlin guessed were former patients, there were paint splatters in the most unusual places (including the ceiling fan), and one corner boasted a tacky pink fluffy eyesore of a chair lined with silver.

Noticing Merlin's bafflement, Will told him, "That's the Throne of Inspiration. Ellie, that's our therapist, brought it in for us to sit in when inspiration refuses to strike. She's convinced it works, but remember what I said about inmates running the asylum."

Merlin and Will plopped down at a table next to Freya, who was already drawing like a woman on a mission, except she'd foregone the paper in favour of her arms. She caught Merlin's eye and winked.

"Scars. Didn't always treat my body too nicely, so now I make sure to paint pretty pictures and remember the good stuff."

It blew Merlin's mind how open some of these people were being with him, but then Freya _had_ said she'd been here before. She was a lot easier for him to wrap his mind around than Will, who seemed like he'd never had a single unhappy thought in his life.

From outside the room came a loud crash and a string of nonsensical curses. Most of the kids chuckled and Will poked Merlin in the side with his elbow. "Seems our Lady has arrived."

A tall blonde with messy hair and a comically oversized grandpa cardigan came bustling into the room, carrying an easel.

"Heard those laughs, you nits. See if I ever bring in new supplies again."

Mordred had gotten up from his seat to relieve the woman of her burden, and thanked her profusely. "Preciate it, Ellie. I had to get creative and use the windowsill for my last piece. Was a bitch."

"Mind the language, you willy sanker," and once more the group burst into chuckles. 

"Now then..." Ellie's eyes zeroed in on Merlin and walked over to his table, gripping his hand in a shake that could break bones. "Merlin, wonderful to meet you, my name's Elena, but I'll answer to almost anything that isn't 'hey, you'. I see you've already fallen under the spell of our resident terrible influence."

Will laughed and beamed proudly, but Ellie just cut him off and said "Clearly, I was referring to Freya here."

Freya looked up from her arm-doodling and whispered mock-ominously, "Careful, I didn't mean for him to figure it out quite so soon."

Ellie gave her a fond smile, then focused on Merlin. "Hit me up if there's anything I can assist you with, but otherwise this time's just for you to do as you please." She made her way back to the front of the room and plopped down in her chair, feet resting on the desk.

Will had been correct, Arts was absolutely wonderful. There were no rules, just the chance to sit down for an hour and _create_. The room itself may have been chaotic, but the actual therapy was an excercise in relaxation.

From the corner of his eye, Merlin noticed that Nimueh was occupying the Throne of Inspiration. "Just practicing for the day I'm finally recognised as royalty and I get to sit and watch the peasants," she smirked. She did look quite regal, right up until Morgause lobbed a piece of charcoal at her face (with stunningly impressive aim) and left a streak of black across Nimueh's porcelain skin. "There's your dirty peasant!" Morgause cackled as Nimueh launched herself across the room and threatened to cut off her ponytail.

Ellie was obviously used to their brand of mischief. "Ladies, I wholeheartedly approve of introducing hairdressing as a subject, but make sure you've got a willing partner."

As Merlin put the finishing touches to his drawing, Will poked him. "Mate. Mate. Look what I made." Will was holding up a page from a magazine, some kind of skincare ad, with the eyes, nose and mouth of the model cut out and his own poking through.

"I... have never seen anything more terrifying," Merlin said flatly, at which point Freya looked up to see what the fuss was about. 

"Good grief, you raging psycho, that's definitely going to be some poor woman's last view before her brutal murder."

Will just cackled and stuck his tongue out through the mouth hole, wiggling it. Morgause, Nimueh and Mordred collapsed with laughter during the spectacle.

After Ellie called the session to an end and they were cleaning up after themselves, it struck Merlin that the group had seemed significantly smaller today. "We're missing two people. Are sessions optional? Because I definitely like to sleep in."

Freya shrugged and flashed him a sad smile. "Not really optional, but you know... We're all a bit scrambled in the head here and sometimes getting up all early to work and make nice gets too daunting. Unless you make a habit of it, the staff's pretty cool about that sort of thing."

As they made their way to the common room, Merlin spotted Gwaine, one of the missing party. He was lounging on the sofa, looking freshly-showered and munching on an apple. After Freya's somewhat depressing explanation, Merlin was relieved to see that Gwaine looked happy and relaxed, not at all like someone who couldn't get up to face the day.

He plopped down next to Gwaine and nodded at him, then focused on the old flatscreen TV in front of them. "Anything good?"

"Nah, mate, not at this time of day. Unless you want to buy a set of fake pearl earrings for 300 quid. I just watch out of pure envy, these hosts have my dream job. I'd make a killing peddling this shite."

"Somehow, I feel like you really would," Merlin chuckled, and Gwaine beamed at him. "Glad to know you're supporting my lofty ambitions."

"Careful, Merlin," purred Morgause from behind them, "He'll start trying to fob off his stolen goods on you for a ludicrous price."

Gwaine didn't look the slightest bit bothered, just grinned lazily. "If you're dissatisfied with the product, my lady, please make sure to file a formal complaint and send it to the offices of _my arse_."

Morgause cuffed the back of his head. "It was a shite stapler and you knew what you were doing. Hope you invested my fiver in a savings account for more therapy."

Taking advantage of the openly teasing atmosphere, Merlin nudged Gwaine. "So what's the deal here? You running some kind of underground business around here? Or to put a finer point to it, swindling?"

Gwaine threw his head back and cackled. "It's not my deal, exactly, but I try. ADHD, you know. I get bored and then I get into these crazy schemes. Right now, it's gathering office supplies and selling them to the highest bidder. Every wednesday after dinner, tiny little nuthouse auction. Barely pays the bills, but it's a fun time and I'm a charming host. You should come next time."

Merlin smiled and shook his head. "Gathering office supplies... I'm guessing that's charming host language for stealing?"

Gwaine winked and tapped his nose. "Got it in one."

***

After some down time and catching up on the breakfast he'd foregone earlier that morning, Merlin settled in for Group Therapy with Gwen. He wasn't sure if he felt ready to contribute yet, but he'd looked forward to the coffee, the sweets (chocolates this time), and Gwen's calming presence.

The group was now complete, something that Gwen immediately addressed. "It's good to see you're all here, but I've been told we were a few heads short this morning. Gwaine, Arthur? Anything bothering you?"

Gwaine offered her an embarrassed smile. "Overslept. And before you say it, I know: again. I'm trying to do better."

"If it turns into too much of a problem, you can alert Ellie and she'll make sure to wake you up in time."

" _Nice_ ," Gwaine said lecherously and Gwen, apparently familiar with this behaviour, just shook her head and moved on. "Arthur, how about you?"

"Wasn't feeling it," came the mumbled reply.

Gwen's eyebrows knotted together with worry, and she lowered her tone, not unlike someone approaching a startled animal.

"I've noticed we're starting to lose you a bit, is there anything you would like us to do for you?"

Arthur took a minute to frown at the floor. Something about him made Merlin terribly sad. He was by far the least social person in the group, and Merlin had noticed the bandaged wrists hidden under his sweatshirt. He thought of what Dr. Gaius had said, about suicidal thoughts not always being a temporary thing. He hoped that wasn't the case here.

"It's... Well, it's nothing. Which is kind of the problem. It's not like I'm sad or angry or anything like that. I just haven't been feeling much of anything, and I'm not sure what to do about that."

If ever Merlin had looked for a way to explain how he'd ended up here, Arthur's words had summed it up exactly.

Gwen nodded sympathetically. "This is a bit of a rehash of what I'd just suggested to Gwaine, but would it help any if someone came to your room to make sure you're coming to therapy?"

Arthur pondered on this for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I s'pose. The main problem's finding my motivation. I could probably use a temporary drill sergeant."

Gwen laughed. "If I could, I'd put Percival on the case, but he's not here until Friday. In the meantime, though, I'll alert the staffers and tell them you need a bit of a nudge. Might drive you bonkers after a while, a therapist knocking on your door before every session, but I think it's what you need for now. I'll bring it up with them at lunchtime."

For the first time since Merlin's arrival, Arthur looked up from his trainers and flashed a brittle smile. "Cheers."

"I'll do it."

Merlin felt accutely aware of all the eyes on him, confirming that yes, he had been the crazy person who'd volunteered his help on only his second day in this place. Perhaps his previous sense of contentment was simply shock, and he'd finally snapped.

"What's that, Merlin?" Gwen gave him an encouraging smile, evidently pleased that he'd spoken up.

"I just figured... Since I'm already here, and the staff has things to do, I could escort Arthur to his sessions for now. If that's cool with you, Arthur."

The corners of Arthur's mouth twitched, and he gave Merlin a small nod. "Sure. That'd be fine. Thanks."

Gwen looked happy enough to take flight. "Merlin, that's wonderful of you. But you've only just started here, don't feel like you have to do too much."

Merlin shrugged. "It's not too much. Physical Therapy, that's too much, and may I take a minute to beg you to let me out of it? Indefinitely?"

The room buzzed with laughter, as well as an enthusiastic "sing it, sister" from Nimueh, and Gwen smiled at him fondly.

"I'm afraid I don't have that kind of power. But it's not nearly as bad as it sounds. Percival is an excellent therapist and he's helped many people who don't care for sports in finding something uniquely suited to them. Freya here had the same opinion as you when she came in, and now we find her doing yoga poses whenever there's a chance."

Freya chuckled from across the room. "It's true, Merlin. He won't make you do any angry bloke sports if you don't want to. Unless you secretly want to be a gladiator and think breathing exercises are for ninnies."

Merlin was proud of himself for speaking up in group. True, he hadn't shared anything personal, but he'd helped a fellow patient and he felt slightly more at ease with the prospect of Physical Therapy. Not bad at all.

***

Over the following days, Merlin began to get used to his new routine. He remembered to get breakfast every morning, always dragging along an exhausted Arthur, no matter how loudly he told Merlin to fuck off through his bedroom door. Merlin took his job as drill sergeant very seriously (he didn't think the average drill sergeant woke people up with a forcefully cheery, "Let's have you, lazy daisy!", but hey, Arthur always joined him at breakfast so he was clearly doing something right).

Creative Arts was still his favourite, both for the laidback atmosphere and Will's increasingly mental shenanigans. When he'd reached the point of trying to superglue clay appendages to various parts of his body, Ellie had put him in time-out.

As Arthur's attendance buddy of sorts, Merlin made a conscious effort to involve the reserved boy in more of his conversations. Arthur still wasn't much of a talker, but being around people put some colour back in his cheeks and he didn't stare at the floor so much anymore.

Freya was especially enamoured with him. "Tell you what," she'd told Merlin quietly one night after everyone else had gone to bed and the two of them were staying up to watch a movie. "I just want to give that lad the biggest hug and all the cups of hot chocolate he can drink. He could use it."

Merlin was beginning to understand what she meant. Arthur was improving some, but there was this air of sadness that never quite left him. When he spoke, he was usually gruff and snarky, especially where Merlin was concerned, but he was a good sort and he deserved better.

It was with this in mind that, when they had some down time, Merlin marched over to Arthur's room and dragged him into the kitchen. "Help me with this, yeah?"

Arthur had a tendency to bark "No" at Merlin's every suggestion (sometimes for lack of motivation, sometimes just for the sake of being a royal dick), but Merlin had quickly discovered that ordering him around usually did the trick. If Arthur was struggling to keep himself distracted from intrusive thoughts, Merlin was just gonna drag him into his crazy messes until he got into the groove.

"What. On Earth. Is this?" Arthur gestured helplessly at the kitchen table.

"That, my friend, is the beginning of something beautiful." Merlin held up a bright red fondant hand and waved at Arthur. "Hey."

"Christ alive, he's gone off the deep end. I'm calling in reinforcements, this is the kind of madness only Dr. Gaius is equipped to deal with."

Merlin tugged at Arthur's shirtsleeve and forced him to stay. "Come on, help me out here."

"With _what_ , you lunatic?"

Merlin gestured at the table. "So, okay, I was rooting through the kitchen cupboards, hoping against hope that Gwaine hadn't polished off the last of the Hobnobs - he had, the tosspot, but that's no longer the issue. The issue is that I found this insane amount of fondant, just sitting there in the back of a cupboard with nothing to do. And then I thought, hey, there's probably enough fondant in here to create whole new man. So that's what I'm trying to do now, and I was hoping you'd help out."

Arthur stared at Merlin for a bit before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "You want... to create a Fondant Man."

"No, Arthur," Merlin beamed. "I'd LOVE to create a Fondant Man!"

Heaving the kind of sigh reserved for those with the weight of the world on their shoulders, Arthur walked over to the table and grabbed slab of fondant. Merlin was giddy with happiness.

***

Exactly one week since his arrival, Merlin decided to mark the occasion by opening up in Group Therapy and telling everyone what had happened to land him in this place.

What happened was this: 

_Merlin had not been feeling right for a couple of months now. He'd initially shaken it off as exams stress, but when that hellish period came to an end and Merlin passed with flying colours, he'd started to worry._

_By all means he should be ecstatic; his grades had never been better and he now had oodles of spare time. But the pit in his stomach grew, and he felt like any moment now he was going to crawl out of his skin._

_He'd thrown himself into his artwork, creating three whole graphic novels, but it felt less like a hobby and more like a compulsion. Or the prolonging of the inevitable._

_The things that gave him so much joy before (drawing, baking with his mum, hiking through the woods) just seemed to mock him now. It was as if he'd lost the ability to enjoy. The concept of having fun was slipping from his grasp and no matter how tightly he held on, it was all for nothing._

_His mum, of course, had noticed that something wasn't right. She became more tactile with him, lovingly ruffling his hair or kissing his forehead, and she got a lot more forceful about his eating habits (of which he currently had none). She made him accompany her to the supermarket, asked for his help in the kitchen, and made him sit down and watch her programs with her._

_Hunith, who'd always been Merlin's favourite person in the world, the one person he always wanted to spend time with, was beginning to piss him off._

_It was this, Merlin thought, that sent him over the edge. If he couldn't even appreciate his wonderful mum anymore, he must be broken beyond repair._

_And then one evening, Hunith left to meet up with some of her work friends, and Merlin was on his own. He wandered through the house, relieved at his mother's absence and then guilty for feeling relieved, over and over again until he forgot what he was doing. Forgot everything but the growing pit of nothing in his stomach._

_He'd grabbed a bottle of his mum's sherry from the cupboard and started to swig. It was calming him down some, so he had another brilliant idea. There was still a box of prescription sedatives from when Merlin had needed to take the ferry. Something about open water had always terrified him, and the pills had done a great job keeping him steady (in fact, he'd slept through most of the trip)._

_Merlin plopped down on the couch and put on the telly, mostly staring through it rather than at it. He knocked back a couple of pills, then took another swig from the bottle. His limbs were starting to feel heavy, and that was kind of nice, so Merlin decided to polish off as much as he could of the pills and the sherry._

_The next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed getting his stomach pumped. The pit of nothing could, evidently, not be filled._

Merlin had to steadily avoid eye contact in order to lay down the bare bones of his story. He'd been ashamed to land in hospital over something so phenomenally stupid, for one, but now that he was here, he felt even worse about it. So many of his fellow patients had deliberately tried to take their lives, and he was here because of a nearly fatal error in judgment. He felt like the biggest kind of fraud.

Freya had suffered a lifetime of physical abuse at the hands of her family. Morgause and Nimueh had been the victims of vicious online hate campaigns. Mordred had lost his whole family only to be dumped in foster care and subsequently neglected. Gwaine'd had so much trouble quitting his booze and drug addiction that he figured it'd be easier to kill himself and be done with it. 

What Will's deal was, Merlin didn't yet know, but his almost compulsive happy-go-lucky attitude clearly masked a world of pain. His face had a tendency to fall considerably when he thought no one was looking. As for Arthur, Merlin had no clue either, but given that he was the only one there who seemed to regret his failure to die more than his actual attempt, it probably wasn't anything good.

What did Merlin have? A lifetime of happy memories, a loving mum, good grades, and then 8 months of feeling what? Empty inside? Uncomfortable in his skin? What a joke.

Gwen, bless her bottomless well of empathy, disagreed. "Merlin... Just because you don't think you have a sad story, doesn't mean your feelings should be disregarded. You were in pain, and these feelings of helplessness caught you completely off guard. Sure you've had a good life, but wouldn't that make it all the more terrifying when suddenly it didn't feel so good anymore?"

She had him there.

"I guess I know what you're saying. But I can't help but feel ungrateful, like I'm throwing away a good thing with no idea why."

"Obviously I can't divulge other people's stories, but I can tell you this: it's not uncommon, Merlin. Depression does not discriminate. It doesn't weigh people's fortunes or misfortunes, it simply strikes and disrupts your life. Whether that life was as blessed as you say yours is, or a life of agony."

Merlin held Gwen's gaze, clutching the warmth and care in her eyes like a lifeline.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You survived, you regret your decision and now you're getting help. You're doing everything in your power to look after yourself, even after all you've been through these past few months. That's nothing to scoff at."

Though Merlin still carried a considerable weight on his shoulders, some of the pressure was beginning to let up. Dr. Gaius had been right: Gwen was going to work wonders for people's mental health for decades to come.

***

It was Merlin's curiosity about Will's personal situation that made him seek him out.

He was still very curious about Arthur, too, but he'd only just succeeded in getting the other boy to participate in silly things with him. They had a brittle friendship now, and something told Merlin that asking Arthur about personal things would shatter that friendship for good.

Will, on the other hand, was a gobby sort. He went out of his way to goof off and avoid unhappiness. Merlin had a feeling he'd be willing to confide in him, though probably in a glib, not-a-big-deal sort of way.

He managed to find Will lounging on a kitchen counter, dipping chunks of apple into a peanut butter jar.

"The staff would have a fit if they saw you right now," Merlin grinned. "Not to mention Gwaine when he finds out you took the last three apples."

Will just shrugged, and spoke through a mouthful, "Pretty sure Gwaine snatched my iPod and is planning to sell it back to me later tonight, so he'll just have to keep his ridiculously polished wig on."

Merlin hopped up on the counter next to him. "Give us a slice, then. I haven't stolen from you and I'm famished."

"Pretty sure that's a direct line from a Dickens book, mate," Will mumbled, but dutifully dropped a couple of apple chunks in Merlin's hand and held out the jar.

"So I was wondering-" "You're not getting the iPod." "Not that, you nit. Just wondering what you're in for," said Merlin, throwing Will's earlier words back at him.

Will looked thoughtful for a moment. "Alright, I'll tell you. But only because you had that big emotional breakdown in Group and I feel sorry for you."

Merlin gave Will's earlobe a sharp tug and motioned for him to get to it already.

"Mother- _Fine_ , you bleedin' sadist. I'm here because my bastard drunk ex-military fuckwit of a Dad blew his brains out in the living room and left me to clean up the mess. Mum's got early onstage Alzheimer's, so she was no help. Just kept asking me when Dad was coming back even while I was trying to rid the walls of brain matter. The sort of thing that wipes a boy out, I guess."

Merlin felt like the biggest shit for having asked, but Will was already motioning at him to keep his trap shut.

"I'm only gonna tell you this once, and I'll deny it in future for the sake of your bloody ego: you're my favourite person here, and I'm pretty sure you'd be one of my favourite people anywhere. I think we could've been good friends if we met at a pub or school or anywhere that isn't the nuthouse. And what I will not fucking abide is people going cow-eyed at my tragic life story and apologising for having asked. I can see you're about to do that, and I'd like to keep liking you."

"I was just going to say it's good to know at least one person who knows how to get rid of the evidence if I ever have a dead body on my hands."

Will held Merlin's eye for a moment, then threw back his head in laughter, hitting it on the kitchen cupboard. "Then I look forward to doing business with you, mate."

***

As the days passed, things got considerably easier.

Merlin was on a roll after his first truly cathartic moment in Group Therapy: he spent most of his sessions in Group engaging with others, helping them look into getting back to school and offering to tutor them. The pride on Gwen's face sent his cheeks flushing and heart soaring.

His friendship with Will had never been closer, and by teasing each other about their tragic stories, both boys found a whole new way to work through the pain rather than just masking it. After a long night of watching movies and tossing crisps at each other, they were cleaning the common room (very few crisps had actually been consumed, and even the lamps had suffered for it), Will had looked up in wonder and said "I think this is the longest I haven't been tired." Merlin made no effort to hide his grin, but he made sure to blink the wetness out of his eyes. Will would've decimated him.

With the help of Dr. Gaius and Gwen, he'd finally decided he was ready to talk to his mum. He'd begged the staff to keep in touch with her when they could, but his shame prevented him from speaking to her. Everybody assured him that Hunith was only worried for him and elated that he'd simply survived, nothing else mattered to her, but Merlin had trouble wrapping his head around it. The way he'd let himself down was nothing compared to what he'd put Hunith through.

He still went to Arthur's room everyday, whether to drag him off to therapy or employing his help in another harebrained scheme, but these days Arthur was usually ready to go by the time Merlin got there.

What truly filled Merlin with hope for the future was that he was starting to enjoy things again. He was no longer doing things for the sake of doing them: he actually managed to get lost in the moment and feel content about his various accomplishments. 

He wasn't just surviving: he was getting pieces of his life back that he thought had been lost to him.

***

When Hunith Emrys came face to face with her son for the first time in two and a half weeks, she assaulted a painting.

What happened was she'd been cooped up in Dr. Gaius's office with a warm cup of tea, waiting for her son to get back from Group. The timing had been unfortunate, as she was still cradling her teacup when her boy came into the office, and in her excitement to throw her arms around him and hug him until he had to be forcefully removed, she'd forgotten all about the cup and it went flying across the room.

The teacup was beyond help, but Dr. Gaius's painting of a secluded forest would probably be okay. The frame would need to be replaced, though.

Merlin saw Dr. Gaius's face over his mum's shoulder, and took the lack of eyebrow-raising as a sign that his mum wouldn't be facing any charges. "Mrrrmm," he mumbled into the shoulder he was being so unceremoniously squished into. "Mrm, leggo."

" _Never again_ ," came the firm reply, and Merlin had to start swatting at her arms in his quest for air.

"You only just got me back, be a shame to take me out so soon," and yes, Merlin was spending too much time with Will.

Hunith, to her credit, just lifted a hand to her mouth and looked at him with twinkling eyes. There wasn't just sadness in them - Merlin detected a fair bit of mirth.

"I haven't seen you this spirited in so long, sweetheart," she sighed and cradled his face in her hands. She pressed their foreheads together. "You do whatever the hell you need to get well, baby. Just come back to me."

It was the unexpected vandalism as well as the use of the word 'hell' that convinced Merlin his mum was clearly desperate to have him back.

***

Later that night, after he'd skipped dinner to spend time in his room with a ridiculous smile on his face, his mum's perfume still lingering on his t-shirt, Merlin went in the common room to grab himself a late night snack. He stopped in surprise.

Arthur was curled up on the couch, watching a deep sea documentary with intense fascination. Merlin stored that last part in the back of his mind with all the other surprising little facts he'd learned about Arthur (so far, there was: liking broccoli to the point of ignoring everything else on his plate, a talent for napkin folding, cleaning out in card games, and a keen eye for bugs and vermin - Mordred, who was terrified of creepy crawlies, saw Arthur as his knight protector). The man was an enigma.

"Look at you, leaving your room like that. Who on earth let you out, and do they have rabies now?"

Arthur leveled Merlin with a look he'd grown keenly familiar with: annoyance mixed with exasperation mixed with a smidgen of tolerance.

"They don't even make me chop up my meat with a plastic spoon anymore, _Mer_ lin."

Merlin bounced onto the couch as obnoxiously as possible, delighting in Arthur's angry nose twitch.

"So... Underwater creep monsters. That your thing, then?"

Arthur heaved a sigh. "Since apparently I won't be allowed a shred of piece tonight: yes, Merlin, I do love deep sea creatures, as well as the flora and fauna. The anglerfish is my favourite animal and I think sea anemones are simply the dog's bollocks. Any other questions?"

"Just one," Merlin dimpled. "You are totally going to be a marine biologist when you grow up, aren't you?"

" _When_ I grow up? Coming from _you_ , at that?" Arthur raised a meaningful eyebrow his way, before sighing and mumbling, "Yes, that is what I'd hoped. Or simply a documentarian."

"You'd be good at that, I reckon. You've a voice for documentaries."

"Was that a compliment? Your mum must've knocked you around something fierce."

"Shush, I'm nice, just only to people who deserve it." Merlin decided to take a chance. "Wanna tell me what happened to you? Or are you still too busy cultivating that mysterious loner persona? Cause I have to tell you, mate... between hanging out with me, actually leaving your room at night, and wanting to be a marine biologist I think that ship's pretty much sailed."

Arthur huffed a sardonic laugh. "Yeah, that's what I'm all about. Enticing people with my misery but never giving myself away. Like a massive psychological prick tease."

"See, I knew that. That is exactly what you're bloody like, you narcissist. But I've no interest in trauma porn, unlike the rest of these ghoulish vultures, so why don't you tell me. Your buddy Merlin."

"It's nothing," Arthur rolled his eyes. "And just because I don't talk in Group doesn't mean I don't talk, period. Dr. Gaius knows my story, and I have private sessions with Gwen."

"Yeah, but those are skilled professionals. It doesn't really count until you've unburdened yourself to an underqualified idiot friend."

Arthur's mouth twitched. "Fuck's sake, you're persistent. I meant it when I said it's nothing special."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Alright. _Alright_ , you turnip. It's a simple matter of expectations. When there's all these people barking commands at you, telling you what's best for you without ever consulting your opinion, or distancing themselves the moment they realise you're not what they were hoping for. Expectations are the devil, and I wanted to be shot of them. That's why I... did what I did."

Vague as it was, Merlin thought he understood. It was little things, like how Arthur obviously came from money. He made conscious efforts to hide it, but his comfy hoodies and sweatpants were always a little nicer-looking than everyone else's, his accent and vocabulary gave him away despite how quiet he tried to stay, and then there was the matter of the excellent napkin folding. He truly was a pro at that.

"You are... just... _crazy_ posh, aren't you?"

Arthur's eyes shot up, but he saw Merlin's lack of judgment or bitterness. "Fine, yeah, I am. Eton, plans for Oxford, private chefs and doctors and all that tosh. And it's not like I'm enough of an arrogant dick to dismiss any of that. If anything, looking at everyone else's home situations here makes me feel like a colossal shite. But just once in my life I'd have loved for someone to ask me what I wanted."

Merlin smiled. "Wanna know why I was so quick to volunteer my help when you wouldn't leave your room?"

Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow at the change of subject, so Merlin ploughed on. "I related to you. I mean, I'm broke as hell and my mum works two jobs and the house is barely big enough for either of us and I got into a frankly shite school on a scholarship, but other than that... You talked about feeling nothing, and that's exactly what it was like for me. You feel all this guilt about the others being worse off than you. We were both blessed in life, but lacked the ability to feel it. Maybe I don't get you completely, but you're still the person whose situation I relate to most."

With a wry smile and a shake of the head, Arthur just said, "Go to bed, Merlin."

Merlin didn't take offence. By now he knew Arthur well enough to know that he was pleased, but also in no way willing to have another heart-to-heart.

"Suppose I'd better. Show's still on, so you keep learning how to be the world's future King Marine Biologist."

***

A couple of days later, something weird happened.

The day had started with a very satisfactory session of Creative Arts. Fondant Man had taken up permanent residence on the Throne Of Inspiration, and Will had abandoned all efforts to do anything arts-and-crafts related and switched to loudly reciting self-made limericks (when Ellie asked, he told her that limericks too were poetry, and it was his God-given right to recite whichever type of poetry was dearest to his heart, this was Creative Arts after all; Ellie granted him permission easily, if only because Will's confidence soared the dirtier his creations got - though Merlin was pretty sure Ellie had a special weakness for disgusting rhymes and Will was her secret favourite).

Mordred, the group's resident Salvador Dalí, had abandoned his beautiful surrealist creations in favour of documenting Morgause and Nimueh's latest playful spats: there were many paintings containing two droopy-faced women (both Nimueh and Morgause were very beautiful, but Mordred's dedication to the surreal never wavered) trying to sabotage each other in the silliest ways. The paintings were titled with random, unrelated lines from Will's revolting limericks, and it filled Merlin with joy to see how much all these people seemed to care for each other.

Freya's arms had sleeves at this point, and instead of making her look like a hardened criminal, it just made her more enchanting. She'd recently switched over to permanent markers, and when she saw Merlin's questioning look, she confided in him. "I've decided to get them tattooed. This is my third time in one of these places, and I'm done making the same mistake over and over. I'm planning on taking a marker to every scarred part of my body, and having a burly biker tattooist make it permanent. I'd like to actually live next time, and hopefully the sight of my cartoon wasteland of a body will make me think twice about taking a knife to it."

Merlin's favourite part of Creative Arts, though, would have to be Gwaine. The young man had zero interest in this kind of thing, and he made it known, frequently so. There was only one upside for him, and that was Ellie, and he seemed to like her enough to make sure he was always present and ready to drive her mental. Merlin initially thought Gwaine's fondness for apples was based wholly on dietary preferences, but it turned out that every morning Gwaine made sure to leave an apple on Ellie's desk at the start of the session, in a strange parody of teacher's pet shenanigans.

Despite the utter lack of creativity in all of Gwaine's bones, the lad never missed a session (turned out Elena's "GET UP YOU TOSSER" wake-up calls worked a treat) and Merlin began to see their back-and-forths as a private soap. The most intriguing part to Merlin by far was Ellie's subtle softening of the eyes whenever Gwaine went out of his way to do something sweet. It probably wouldn't have been right, a therapist and a patient, and Ellie was a consummate professional despite all of her little quirky unprofessionalisms. Still, Merlin couldn't help but root for these two. Ellie was just 2 years Gwaine's senior; she'd only started last year as a temp who'd lucked into the job when Dr. Gaius realised how well she worked with the patients, and she'd probably be good for Gwaine. The young man had a wonderful 4 weeks of sobriety under his belt, and Ellie probably wouldn't let him survive a relapse.

It was this very situation that led to the Weird Thing that happened that day.

While most of the group was hanging around the common room, kicking back and waiting for lunch to be served, the topic veered towards the Gwailena Thing. Turned out that Merlin's soft heart hadn't been the only one captured by this oddly wonderful back-and-forth.

"Let me tell you something," came the predictable precursor to Freya's gossipy theories. "If they'd met anywhere else, they'd have been married by now."

Merlin just chuckled. Freya was such a live-and-let-live, 'other people's secrets are their own' person most of the time, but it was always a good thing when she decided to move past her morals. They'd enjoyed plenty a respectful gossip-session this way.

"I know. The moment I realised he kept ordering those apples in an attempt to woo the teacher, I knew it was meant to be. For Christ's sake, they're nearly as old as each other, not to mention as mad as each other. Lord grant me a vision of the future, where Gwaine's cleaned up his act and interrupts Elena in the middle of a lecture on how to handle adolescent crazies, proposing to her with a lone Red Delicious."

Freya cackled with joy, then sent a meaningful glance in Merlin's direction that he _should've known_ would lead to no good.

"How about you, handsome? Any romantic prospects there?"

Merlin, of course, did his best to deflect. "Much as I respect the work ethic and empathy of our Overlords, I can't say I'm tempted."

Freya wouldn't have been Freya if she took things at face value, and for the first time since they met, he cursed this close-knit friendship.

"I'm talking life on the outside, you bollocks. Any potential girlfriends? Or what do I know, it's the year of our progressive lord 2018, any boyfriends? _Both_? Throw a girl a bone, Merlin, I've spent weeks in your kindly, pretty company and I would just love to know, cause if I weren't such a shambles of a person right now I'd have snatched you up easily."

Torn between laughter and utter humiliation, Merlin shook his head, cheeks burning. "There was no one."

Freya refused to be thwarted. "Buuuuuut...?"

"Very well, you nosy bag of pricks. I'm gay, and no, I've never felt the urge to wank over any non-Beckham-related people. I've never cared for no one, NO ONE!"

Freya just snorted and punched him in the shoulder. "There you go! The words of the eternally sexually-frustrated!" 

At Merlin's exasperated expression, she nudged him far more gently and confided, "I'm bi, and I like the ladies a hell of a lot more. Not many options in my small town either, buddy, so let's raise a mug," at which point she actually lifted her teacup, "to being lonely gays. Together."

Merlin, currently lacking for tea or coffee, bumped his fist into Freya's teacup and smiled. "May our tragic, lonely nights be improved by the knowledge that we're two lovely people in the same boat who will never get to shag each other."

"Hear, hear!" Freya shouted, and Merlin realised she'd been spiking her tea with a miniature bottle of scotch, courtesy of last night's Gwaine-fronted auction (and where on earth the lad had acquired it, Merlin was probably better off not knowing).

The majority of the group had been lounging about the vicinity of the telly, and Merlin was sure some of them had listened in on his and Freya's conversation. Which would've been fine by Merlin, who didn't much care what others thought regarding the subject of sexual orientation, but one particular face in the crowd stood out to him like a sore thumb.

Arthur, who'd been making more and more of an effort to join the group in down time activities, was looking at Merlin like they'd never even met before.

Merlin looked away with a snarl, forcing himself to focus on Jeremy Kyle (and there was a situation he'd never thought to find himself in). Arthur had become a subtle kind of close friend these past few weeks, but he was ultimately a posh PE-enthusiast (really, his efforts in Percy's sessions were _beyond_ ) and Merlin knew what that usually amounted to as far as he was concerned as an openly gay kid. Well, sod that: if Merlin's revelations bothered Arthur, that was just his bloody business.

***

It was in fact Physical Therapy that eventually afforded Merlin some clarity. He'd been at it for a while now, and as usual, Gwen and Freya had been right: Percival, despite looking like the average sports fanatic's personal visual of God Himself, was as gentle and understanding as they came. Merlin's first session had eliminated his prior reservations and confirmed that there really was nothing to worry about.

Merlin had initially been very intimidated by this blokey tower of a human male who appeared to be more muscle than person, but he needn't have worried. Percy, as he preferred to be called, was an utter sweetheart. He understood that not everyone was as stoked about protein shakes, boxing and being their healthiest self the way he was, and he checked in on all his patients and engaged them in meaningful conversation to find out what type of exercise would help them soar. Merlin felt a bit embarrassed at how judgmental he'd been, given that Percy was a trained mental health professional first and foremost. No matter the bulging biceps and fondness of laddish sports, of course he wouldn't be some kind of sadistic steroid-factory of a person.

Over the past couple of weeks, Merlin had learned an important lesson. While he wasn't too fond of sports culture (see: large groups of adult men flaunting their sexism, racism, and homophobia all for 'the love of the game'), there were actually plenty of sports he loved participating in. His was an eclectic mix of basketball with Percy and Gwaine, football with Arthur and Morgause (the latter of which quite frankly played _dirty_ , but that just made for plenty of laughs, especially when she headbutted them and they landed flat on their arses while she ran off to score another goal - the effect this seemed to have on Morgause's mental wellbeing left them all feeling very forgiving), and yoga with Freya and Mordred. For being the world's most zen type of exercise, it was the truest bitch. But by the time Merlin got used to folding his aching limbs into ludicrous positions, he actually felt his body as well as his mind relax, and he got to understand the true meaning of yoga. It was the ultimate post-workout session, and the odd chance to snort at his fellow buddies's increasingly weird poses made the whole thing more enjoyable.

That day, Percy had relieved them of their duties and sent them off to get cleaned up.

Merlin, having rid himself of his shirt, was rubbing himself down in front of the communal sinks. The only two people in the group who frequently took advantage of the gym showers were Gwaine and (surprisingly) Freya. The others were fine just splashing some water in their faces and scurrying off to their individual rooms to prepare for a proper solo shower.

Usually, Merlin had plenty of time on his own, but this time he was joined by Arthur, similarly shirtless and trying to clean himself.

He wasn't very proud of his actions, but Merlin had been trying to avoid Arthur after that stupid conversation with Freya in the common room. He wasn't usually one to hide in the face of adversity, but he'd made so much progress with Arthur over the weeks and if a tiny conflict of interest made things go South, it would've devastated him.

His perceptions were once again shattered when Arthur caught his eye, and said, "That thing with Freya, the other day?"

In the midst of trying to figure out if he had any way to book a flight with his shoddy Wi-Fi or simply jump out the nearest window, Merlin tried to calm his racing heart and decided to go on the offence.

"If this is your subtle attempt at finding a more suitable motivation buddy, don't worry. I'm sure Gwaine and Will would be up to the task."

Merlin rubbed entirely too much facial scrub into his eyes and stonily refused to show Arthur exactly how much pain he was currently in.

Arthur seemed determined to blow his mental fuses. 

"That wasn't the point, Merlin," he muttered softly (and the lack of emphasis on Merlin's name really should've prepared for what Arthur said next). "Just... You said you're gay? The other night. With Freya. And you sounded so sure?"

Merlin gave up on his facial scrub attempts and leaned against the sink, looking Arthur in the eye.

"Yup. So?"

Arthur, who was still doing his best to rub down his tanktop-clad arms and wash his red sweaty face, shrugged and took a minute to turn off the taps.

"Just wondering how you know."

Merlin was at a loss, here. Arthur sounded neither judgmental nor agressive, and his usually steady voice held a note of uncertainty. Whatever the bloody hell that implied, Merlin hadn't a clue, but something told him that just this once Arthur wasn't expecting his usual snark, and if he shot the boy another one of their regular comebacks right now, he'd lose him forever.

He decided to employ a bit of his trademark snark as well as sympathy. "I knew because I'm a human person, Arthur. Most of my life so far has revolved around school, and that suits me just fine, but I'm neither deaf nor blind and I like what I like."

Arthur seemed to need a minute to take this in, but then he nodded, having apparently decided something.

"Cheers, Merlin."

And whatever Merlin had been expecting, it hadn't been that, but he had no chance to quiz Arthur on it because the other lad had made himself scarce.

***

The next few days held some excitement. Fondant Man was still perched on his throne and some joker had given him a tiara, Will forewent his usual jokes in favour of telling Group that he was planning to become his mum's full-time carer, and Nimueh was preparing to leave the group.

"Allow me to speak directly from the heart, and tell you that you've all been a bunch of wankers."

The rest of the group, sprawled across various pieces of furniture in the common room while Nimueh delivered her goodbye speech, kept their eyes on the pretty goth lass who'd only grown prettier and gothier over the days.

"That said, you've given me a new lease on life, no matter how disgusting that sounds."

Everyone clapped loudly, including Gwen who had taken the time to cancel her meetings and be here to send a patient back into the outside world.

Nimueh held up what seemed to be a collage, and grinned wryly.

"I've gotten to know you all a bit, and despite the damage this will do to my reputation: I'd like to leave you all with this collage. You're all on there; my favourite of your artworks - courtesy of my excellent iPhone camera - as well as," and here her confident voice morphed into something rather less coherent, "the things I appreciate about every single one of you as a person."

Despite having no idea if Nimueh had actually complimented or humiliated them, the group burst into cheers.

"I guess what I've been trying to say is... Stay badass. Fuck the rules. Smash expectations wherever you go," thus concluded Nimueh's speech.

The room erupted into loud, uninhibited cheers, none louder or less inhibited than Mordred and Morgause's, and Nimueh's pale cheeks coloured at the praise.

"GET THE FUCK ON OUT OF HERE THEN, YA NORMIE!" screeched Gwaine, and Nimueh gave the group an uncharacteristically modest bow before grabbing her bags off the nearest seat and heading for the exit.

***

"Alright, then?" Merlin asked a quiet Morgause as she stared out the common room's window.

She looked back at Merlin, eyes watery but infused with joy, and nodded. "If that bucket o' crazy can make it, I'm sure I will, too."

Tugging her ponytail with affection, Merlin made his way to the kitchen counter, where Will and Arthur were engaged in a serious discussion, while Gwaine and Freya watched on in a kind of fascination he'd only ever seen them direct at Jeremy Kyle.

"What's going on here, then?"

Will and Arthur both looked up at Merlin sheepishly. "Nothing." "Nothing, Mum." (the latter would be Will)

"Princess and Anarchist here were trying to decide on the last Bourbon," said Gwaine. "Seems they've completely neglected the one person most entitled to this stale, old-lady treat, which would of course be me."

That's when Freya reached for Gwaine's lovely hair and gave it a sharp tug. "I _believe_ what the gentleman meant to say was that our current conglomeration's lone female, a very skinny one at that, has first dibs on whichever elderly person biscuit makes its way to her first."

Merlin did the only thing that seemed right: he snatched the remaining Bourbon from its tin, balanced precariously between Will and Arthur, and swallowed it whole.

"YOU WANKER!"

Merlin would never know who said it first.

***

Over the next few days, they said goodbye to Mordred and Gwaine.

Mordred was the first to go, and - as was his nature - to little fanfare at that.

"I hereby bequeath my paintings to whoever promises to take care of them, so that only rules out Will," he smirked, and nothing in Will's combative nature seemed willing to argue there.

Merlin made a mental promise to cherish his portrait of Nimueh and Morgause in the middle of a very heated clay fight.

Gwaine's departure involved a mid-afternoon auction, containing mostly Gwaine's personal possessions that he didn't feel like hanging onto (Will's iPad had been returned to its original owner, by ways of Will waving around a pair of scissors and threatening to chop off Gwaine's shiny locks).

Merlin had been so happy to own a quality ruler for only 50p (he hadn't thought to bring any of his own, and sometimes his drawings required the symmetry), only to later be approached by Gwen, who wryly stated, "I wondered where that had gone off to..."

The group was significantly smaller, and everyone struggled to adapt. Without Gwaine's late night auctions, Nimueh's cynical observations, and Mordred's calming presence, the place seemed empty.

Gwen, of course, didn't fail to pick up on it.

"Now, I know it's unsettling, so many people gone at once, but surely we can still function as a group?"

After a minute of silence, Will piped up and said, "Only if you stop skimping on the donuts, Guinevere. There were hardly any left for me last time."

Turned out adjusting to a much smaller group didn't take too much effort at all.

***

It was after Morgause's departure that things suddenly seemed to be moving very quickly.

Morgause had barely taken the time to acknowledge the rest of the group, and no wonder: apparently both Nimueh and Mordred were waiting to welcome her with open arms. Merlin could only hope those three would be just as close on the outside as they'd been in here.

While the staff did its best to bump up the next couple of patients on the waiting list, the current remaining group did its best to stick together.

"It happens sometimes," said Freya, appointed Resident Nuthouse Veteran by the rest of the group during a particularly giddy Group Therapy session. "You walk in, there's all these people, and the next thing you know, you're near the end of the line and you're stuck with two ruddy wankers who've taken your messenger bag hostage and nick your dessert."

Merlin, Will and Arthur just gaped at her. Freya heaved a sigh of frustration.

"Fine, so none of you lot are quite as terrible, but all I'm saying here is that this is the way things are, and don't any of you lay a goddamn finger on my dessert."

***

It wouldn't be too long before Arthur was next to go, and Merlin was desperate to make up for lost time. Merlin had learned a fair bit about the other boy these past three weeks and seven days, but it didn't seem nearly enough.

After learning that Arthur would be leaving in two days, Merlin asked him to hang out in the common room. It took nowhere near the effort Merlin had expected to convince him; Arthur nodded his agreement before the promise of coffee and homemade Yorkshire pudding was even suggested.

Nevertheless, Merlin wanted to treat his quiet mate to something nice, so an hour before they were supposed to hang out, he'd snuck into the kitchen and prepared his mum's special recipe for Yorkshire pudding (the surprise was the addition of nutmeg, cinnamon sugar and cardamom).

By the time the oven was wide open, wafting all sorts of delicious scents, Merlin had made himself comfortable on the couch. Arthur joined him only a couple of minutes later.

"Still sure about this, or should I just leave you to your silent couch-brooding and whatever the hell smells so good I'm willing to sell my soul for it?"

Merlin simply smacked his hand into the couch cushions in an effort to make sure Arthur sat down. And bless, he did.

"So... Not long before you're out of here, then." He did his best to sound casual.

Arthur seemed to be struggling just as much. "Yup... Back to a future in corporate law I go."

Merlin hadn't known about this.

"That another one of those expectations, then?"

Arthur lifted his arms above his head and stretched, groaning deeply.

"Got it in one. My dad, suppose I'll refer to him as King Expectation for now, insists on me going into the family business."

"And, correct me if I'm wrong, but you have exactly zero interest in this."

"I love telling you you're wrong, Merlin, but I can't even be bothered right now."

Arthur pressed his face into one of his still-lifted arms. Despite his jesting tone, the frustration radiated from his every pore, and Merlin just couldn't have that, not if Arthur was being sent out into the real world so soon.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way or anything, but _fuck your dad_."

For a bit, Merlin watched Arthur's prone form and started to mentally curse his candor, but then Arthur began shaking and that was a whole other can of worms. Had he broken Arthur? Did he need to get Gwen or Dr. Gaius or-

A loud snort alerted Merlin to the fact that Arthur was, in fact, laughing. Almost hysterically so.

"If I messed with your inner workings, blink twice," Merlin yelped, but that only seemed to crack Arthur up even more.

It took a while for him to compose himself, but then he lifted his face from where it'd been pressed into his outstretched arm, and he was smiling.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for someone to say that."

Arthur got up from the sofa, which made Merlin worry even more, but the other boy simply made his way into the kitchen and tossed the lukewarm Yorkshire puddings on a large plate, then made his way back to Merlin.

Merlin just watched as Arthur tore off a piece and ate it, face contorting in a kind of pleasure and contentment that had Merlin's cheeks burning.

"This is legend, you make this yourself?" Arthur barely gave Merlin the chance to nod before stuffing his face again.

"I'll let my mum know it was a success."

"Sod that," said Arthur inbetween bites, "I'll tell her myself."

As soon as he'd said it, Arthur glanced up at Merlin in a way that seemed to mirror his own expression.

The moment was shattered by Arthur, who looked back down at his plate and finished his Yorkshire pudding.

"Arthur..."

" _Mer_ lin."

Merlin shook his head and ate some of his own creation.

"What's going on here, Arthur?" he asked quietly, and not without some vulnerability.

Arthur shot him a quick, earnest look before turning his gaze towards the floor, his initial comfort zone.

"I think you're wonderful," he muttered. He obviously had more to say, so Merlin gave him the time he needed and ignored his own fluttering heart.

"Look, back when everything was shite and I wasn't... you know, undead and all, there was this bloke. And I'd spent enough time at an all-boys school to know the difference between... Um. Very well. Between an innocent wank between mates, and two mates just... going at it. As you were. So."

Merlin had to force himself hear Arthur out before allowing his system to short-circuit.

"So Alistair and me, we'd kind of been... y'know. Because we both had shitheel fathers who thought they knew what was best for us. We kind of understood each other that way, and that made what we did a bit more... I don't know, really. I can't tell you if it felt more, or meant more, or... Nevermind."

Arthur took a moment to clear his throat, not realising just how much his words as well as unexpected lack of articulacy had utterly _floored_ Merlin.

"Thing is, I figured there was something there. I mean, wouldn't you? But then his dad offered him a position at some kind of prestigious Swiss university and he was so bloody stoked. And he kind of looked at me like I was some sort of extremely dim child, and I actually remember his final words to me because they were such bloody _wank_."

"What'd he say?" Merlin asked quietly, reminding Arthur that he was in fact listening.

"His exact words to me were 'Arthur, old chum, it's been fun and all, but really... what were you hoping for, here?'. I remember it word-for-word because there's something momentous about the instant you realise that you'd lost your virginity to a pretentious fucking plonker."

Merlin snorted, and tried to decide on his next course of action before settling on, "Arthur. Are you gay?"

Arthur threw an arm across his face and laughed.

"Really, Merlin. Your observational skills put the rest of us to shame."

Merlin threw a pillow at Arthur's still partially-covered head.

"Stuff it, prat, all I meant was is that why you tried to top yourself? Because you're gay and surrounded by Tory pricks?"

Arthur removed his arm from his face and regarded Merlin with his special brand of fondness and exasperation.

"It was part of it. Sure, how could it not be? But it was just one fly in a web of total bullshit. What it ultimately came down to was this: I'm gay, I prefer marine biology to corporate law, I don't think refugees are the downfall of our country, and I bloody hate highly-educated young men who answer to their powerful fathers and refuse to work for what they have. I've never been much of a revolutionary, so what other option was there but to kill myself?"

Merlin couldn't be sure why he did what he did next, but he launched himself at Arthur and gave him a tight hug.

"Since you suck at killing yourself, does this mean you're gonna be a revolutionary from now on?"

***

They celebrated Arthur's last day as respectfully as possible: a bucket of properly cooked broccoli, Fondant Man on the corner of the sofa, and three beautifully decorated signs saying "TELL UR DAD TO FUCK RIGHT OFF" (sentiment by Merlin; calligraphy by Freya; words by Will).

Gwen was usually present for goodbyes, but she stuck closer to Arthur's side than she had anyone else. Seeing as they'd shared 3 private sessions a week, it was no surprise.

Arthur blew Will's mind by emptying the bucket of broccoli entirely, and said his goodbyes with a firm grip on everyone's individual shoulders - including Fondant Man, who would forever bear the scars.

Gwen hooked an arm through Arthur's as they made their way to the exit, murmuring encouragements into his ear all the while.

Merlin was left with the two people who'd made his entrance into this world of insanity so much more comfortable, and he'd never loved them more.

That's why he figured they'd excuse him for bolting upright and sprinting out of the room.

"ARTHUR!"

Arthur, who was at the far end of the hall and still engaged in conversation with Gwen, turned to face him.

"Christ alive, Merlin, you're wheezing. I don't think Percival's working you hard enough."

"Shut... Up... Prat..." Merlin breathed, trying desperately to remember what oxygen was.

His valiant attempts at romance were sadly - but not too much so - thwarted by Arthur, who rolled his eyes up to the heavens and sighed, then marched towards Merlin and hauled him upright, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and murmured, "I'll miss you, too, stay in touch, see you on the other side and all that wank. Now go work on your therapy."

"Yes," Merlin wheezed, "That."

***

Merlin's last week was an absolute circus. New patients were beginning to stream in, and the assortment of new and unfamiliar noises was a mindfuck.

"That little fellow," said Freya, who was set to leave tomorrow and had no desire to get to know any of the newbies. "He's worse than Gwaine. Asked me if I'd like to own a one-of-a-kind turquoise stole, I told him sure, since the one you're holding up used to be my bloody grandmother's!"

Will and Freya had arrived to the ward simultaneously, which meant Merlin would have to face another four days without his favourite people.

They weren't set to leave until 11PM, which they'd arranged especially so they could hang out in the common room with Merlin one last time. Merlin scheduled an emergency afternoon appointment with Dr. Gaius.

The old man, observant as ever, smiled at Merlin from across his desk.

"I take it these next few days will be a challenge."

Merlin huffed. "Sing it for the people in the bloody back, sir. I have no idea what to do with myself."

Dr. Gaius chuckled in the way that parents reserved for their very dimwitted children. "Were I any more cruel, I'd have assigned you to babysitter duty, dear boy, but after the progress you've made, I'm making your last few sessions optional."

Merlin's eyes were positively bulging.

"No shitting, sir?"

Dr. Gaius's eyes twinkled. "No shitting, lad. I have the utmost confidence in your recovery."

***

Merlin's goodbye to Will and Freya had been a rowdy one.

Apparently, in addition to his late night auctions, Gwaine had also been having Confidential Midnight Auctions, which included various tiny bottles of liquour obtained from hotel mini bars and grandmother's houses. Sure explained Gwaine's fondness for 'odd jobs' (AKA hotel cleaning service, carer for the elderly, and janitorial services at local pubs).

Will had acquired a frankly stunning collection of tiny drinks, and had saved them for the purpose of this very night.

Not a one of the trio was able to recall exactly how the night had gone, other than 'just bloody swell, mate'.

Merlin had woken up in his own room, having most likely been carried there by an only slightly less wankered Will and Freya. He found confirmation of this on his forehead (a sticky-note bearing Will's mobile number), as well as his arm (a number in black marker that could only be Freya's, if the additional cartoon butterfly was anything to go by).

His last days went by in a haze. Merlin had taken Dr. Gaius's permission to skip therapy to heart - though he never missed Creative Arts, and Ellie's watery gaze told him she knew hers was his special exception.

After a fond farewell to the staff, there was a final chat with Dr. Gaius and Gwen, both of whom assured him that even though they'd miss him, they'd be ever happier to see the back of him.

He packed his things and cast a final, fond look at his little room. Before making his way to the end of the hall where his mum was waiting for him, he snatched a sticky-note from the common room and put it up on the mirror above his old sink.

 _You'll be just fine_ , it said.

***

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

Merlin's 18th birthday was an event unlike any he'd ever known before.

It had been 4 months since his time at the clinic, but his mum was still so happy to have him back she'd been making a whole bunch of sneaky phone calls.

Merlin didn't really have any friends at school, partially because of his descent into depression but mostly because his mum's dire financial situation had made him work so hard there was never any time for socialising.

So when he walked into his living room and saw a whole bunch of people his own age sitting there, he could've been forgiven for emitting a bird-like screech (and he did, he really did).

Turned out his mum had snatched his mobile and placed three urgent calls to Will, Freya and Arthur, then informed them to bring 'any of the others you're still in contact with'.

Thus began the tale of Merlin, officially 18 years old, who walked into his peaceful home and found a living room full of people awaiting his company. And continued to scream like a not particularly masculine animal in distress.

***

"Happy birthday, you sack o' shite," was what Will said.

"Don't go killing yourself for at least the next 18 years now, you hear!" shouted Nimueh directly into his ear.

Many more unpleasantries were exchanged, and poor Gwen - the only person in the house besides his mum who had long passed the drunken uni years - just beamed at him with a twinge of exasperation.

She pulled him into her side, kissed his cheek and said, "I'm so proud of you, kiddo. I look forward to buying your first officially published graphic novel."

There was one thing Merlin's experience at the clinic had taught him: Gwen said the kind of things that made you think, 'Oh, she's so nice, she'll say that to anyone', but the truth of the matter was she _always_ meant what she said. 

And in that moment, he was fully convinced that yes, he _would_ get to publish his graphic novels. And he'd be bloody phenomenal at it.

***

At the end of the night, Hunith had retired to her bedroom and Gwen had said her goodbyes and the rest of the group had passed out on various surfaces of the living room and kitchen (small house, but the kids had certainly marked it like a dog would its territory - thankfully with loud snores instead of piss).

Merlin and Arthur were the last ones awake (not counting Nimueh and Morgause, curled up on the couch together and undoubtedly whispering about world domination), and they sat on the steps outside Merlin's house.

"So you actually told the old man to bugger off, eh?"

Merlin bumped his shoulder against Arthur's.

"Maybe not in so many words, but judging from his pulsating forehead vein I think I got my message across."

"Not disowned, then?"

"Nah. Just very rich and very unsupported by my family. Will you still have me?"

Merlin took a moment. "So long as you don't start buying me things, I reckon we'll be okay."

Arthur smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.

"I'd never stoop so low as to buy you anything, _Mer_ lin. I'll only make you many more Fondant People."

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> TW: references to suicide, mental health struggles, references (vague) to bad family situations, gallows humour


End file.
